


The Protection Racket

by newdog14



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Maribat - Fandom, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien salt, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime, Crime Boss Jason Todd, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Guardian Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Guns, Happy Ending, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jasonette, MariBat, Maribat March, Mentioned Lila Rossi, Minor Angst, Minor Class Salt, Rated for swearing, minor spoilers for Under the Red Hood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30119643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newdog14/pseuds/newdog14
Summary: “Dammit Pixie, I know I’m extorting you, but my protection is still legit! If somebody’s giving you shit you gotta tell me."For Maribat March Day 18: Protect
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd
Comments: 24
Kudos: 409
Collections: Maribat March





	The Protection Racket

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Eat0Crow for giving me moral support and helping me get through writing this fic! Her stuff is all super amazing, so if you haven't checked her out you totally should.

Gotham City was about as different from Paris as it was possible to be. Some of those differences came from the change in countries and climate; most people spoke English and the weather was consistently terrible all year round. But most differences came from the fact that Gotham was different from  _ any _ city. It was darker, and gloomier, and infinitely more dangerous than anywhere else Marinette could have moved to, short of perhaps a literal war zone. 

Gotham was the sort of city where supervillains could walk the streets in plain view and be largely ignored. It was the sort of place where nobody looked twice at a crime in progress, but if you said a single word against the city or its residents you’d have an angry mob after you. It was the sort of place where corruption was considered a given, no matter what profession was being examined. It was the kind of city where the only thing that kept utter hopelessness at bay was a thick layer of apathy and an ever growing team of mysterious, largely bat themed vigilantes. 

Her parents had thought she was crazy when she told them that Gotham was where she wanted to move there after she graduated. Well, at first they’d actually thought she was joking, but once they realized that she was  _ serious _ they thought she was crazy. They had refused to help her with the endeavor, which she supposed was to be expected. After all, from their perspective there was no logical reason for her to want to go, and Gotham didn’t have the safety net of a Miraculous Cure if something happened to you.

Of course, neither did Paris anymore, but Paris also no longer had supervillains, so there was less need for such a thing. Ladybug and Chat Noir had both officially retired after reclaiming the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous, and Marinette was glad to leave the disastrous partnership behind her. Chat had been more interested in dating her than saving Paris for a long time now, and Marinette had been almost as happy to be rid of him as she was to be rid of Hawkmoth. Of course, then he’d turned out to be Adrien, so even if he’d never know it she wasn’t  _ actually  _ free of him, but that was just another reason for her to want to move.

Her parents had tried everything to dissuade her from leaving, even enlisting Alya’s help to outline all the reasons that living in Gotham was a bad idea, which had consequently led to all of Marinette’s old classmates begging her not to go. She wasn’t sure why they cared, as they hardly saw her outside of school these days anyway, but it seemed that everyone was coming out of the woodwork to tell her how much they’d miss her if she left. 

Marinette wagered that it would take Lila two weeks at most to make everyone forget all about missing their old friend. Maybe less, it had been a long time since Marinette had actually listened to what Lila told all of their schoolmates. She’d given up trying to expose the lies; no one listened to Marinette when it was so much easier to write her off, and Adrien had remained convinced that things were best left as they were and therefore wouldn’t back her up. 

Adrien’s attempt to get her to stay was by far the worst. Not because she felt bad for leaving him, his attachment to her was unhealthy and she wasn’t about to let him control her life, but because he was so hellbent on getting her to stay that he just wouldn’t accept no for an answer. He’d tried lecturing her, he’d tried guilt tripping her, he’d tried bribing her. But Marinette was firm in her decision: she would be going to Gotham, and nothing and no one would stop her.

The reason she was so set wasn’t one she could share though. It wasn’t about the Gotham fashion scene, which was basically nonexistent. It wasn’t because she’d developed a new and sudden love for gothic architecture and excessive numbers of gargoyles. It  _ certainly _ wasn’t because she wanted to don a new mantle and join Batman’s never ending crusade against crime. 

No, Marinette was going to Gotham because the amount of dark energy generated in that city was starting to throw the whole world out of balance. Usually that kind of darkness has to be purposefully created with magic, but so far as she could tell that wasn’t the case in Gotham. There was just so much death and destruction and despair building up there that it had started a cycle of darkness that could endanger  _ everyone  _ if left unchecked. She didn’t know what Fu had been thinking, ignoring it for as long as he had.

It would take Marinette  _ decades _ to sort out that much bad energy, but she was the Guardian, so dealing with it was her responsibility. So she was moving to Gotham to cleanse the city, to start her own boutique, and to (hopefully) grow her reputation in the fashion industry. Gotham was a big city, and for all that it was the crime capital of the world, it was also home to an unconscionable number of societal elites. Marinette would be able to live on MDC’s commissions even if the boutique did poorly, and well, if something went wrong she had the kwami to back her up.

So Marinette had moved. She had listened to and ignored the arguments made by those around her, because none of them could outweigh her responsibility to keep the world in balance. She had found a building to buy, one that had space for a workshop and a storefront as well as an apartment on the top floor, and while it admittedly wasn’t in the best area she wasn’t  _ really  _ planning to rely on foot traffic for her business anyway. It was a cheap building, which meant that she still had enough money to pay for insurance, which was absurdly expensive in Gotham.

She had a few weeks peace while she was moving in and setting up. She was able to set up a studio for all her designing needs, as well as a fitting room for in case she ever had people come in person, and she updated her website to reflect her new base of operations in America. She set up her storefront, including setting up a display window for her less expensive work. She wasn’t so optimistic to think that it was a good idea to show off anything that would look worth stealing.

By her third week in Gotham she had her new workspace set up, and while her apartment upstairs was still a bit of a mess she hated unpacking and was putting that off for as long as possible. So instead of dealing with the many cardboard boxes taking over her living room, she opened up her shop for the first time, and settled in behind her counter with a basket of knitting supplies to keep herself occupied.

She had considered trying to host some sort of grand opening, but had ultimately decided it would be a bad idea. Her most loyal clientele were either located in Paris or wealthy to the point that she didn’t think it would be a good idea to advertise their support in person, or to connect her boutique to the MDC brand. So instead she simply opened the store and hoped anyone outside would notice the hand painted sign she’d hung on the door.

A few people wandered into the shop that day, and Marinette managed to sell a few small accessories, all of which carried small blessings from her and the kwami. There weren’t any grand purchases made, but it was a better first day than she had anticipated. Apparently there had been quite a few people who had noticed her move in, and they had been waiting to see inside her little boutique. It wasn’t until the end of the day that she had her first real problem though.

It was just before closing that three men entered her store and flipped her open sign around behind them. They were each dressed in suits, though only one of them seemed to have gotten his outfit properly tailored. He was shorter than the other two, who both took up rather intimidating positions around her store as the shorter man walked toward her. The man smiled at her, but it was a disconcerting sort of expression that set her on edge; whoever these men were, they were dangerous.

“Good evening,” Marinette said, slipping into her customer service voice. “Feel free to look around, and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Are you the proprietor of this fine establishment?” the shorter man asked, leaning against her counter and toying with some of the jewelry displayed there. He was clearly in charge, so Marinette kept her attention focused on him.

“I am,” Marinette answered. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

One of the goons snorted, and the grin of the man in front of her shifted to cold amusement. “On the contrary, Missy, this is about how  _ we  _ can help  _ you _ .”

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Marinette replied, though there was a sinking suspicion in her gut that she  _ did  _ understand him.

“I take it you’re a little new to Gotham,” the man said, his grin setting off all sorts of alarm bells in her head. Marinette nodded, even though it hadn’t really been a question. “Well, this is a dangerous city. Lots of dangerous people. And a cute little shop like this, well, it’d be a real shame if something were to happen to it. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

One of the goons spun a clothing rack, an action that Marinette didn’t think could have been menacing until she saw him do it. “I take it you have a solution to keep my shop safe?”

“Got it in one, Sweetheart,” he said, his expression taking on a sleazy edge that made her want to cringe, “My boys and I are here on behalf of Mr. Siones. In exchange for some small monetary compensation, you’ll be extended the full protection of the Black Mask. That means nobody messes with this pretty little store you’ve got.”

“That’s very generous,” Marinette said, trying to keep her voice neutral. She’d been expecting this, if she were honest. Protection rackets had been number three on Alya’s list of ‘Reasons Why Marinette Shouldn’t Move to Gotham’. Marinette didn’t like the idea of having to pay off mobsters in order to stay open, but it was something she’d planned for. Trying to fight them off would only lead to more trouble, and if she was going to be working magic here for the foreseeable future she needed to stay under everyone’s radar. “How much do I need to pay?”

The man’s grin turned victorious, though his goons looked a little disappointed that they weren’t going to get to wreck anything. Marinette let him set his price without haggling, they wanted a ‘percentage’ of her profits for each month and they gave her their estimate for what they expected her to earn. Marinette agreed to everything and gave them a ‘down payment’ as a show of good faith, and the men left with a threat to see her again real soon. 

It wasn’t ideal, but for the time being it was something Marinette would have to deal with while in Gotham. She was just glad that she had decided not to connect MDC to the store after all; if word had gotten out that she designed for a rockstar she had a feeling her protection fees would have been much higher. As it was, the fee was manageable, and Marinette slipped into a routine.

She made simple, high quality clothing and accessories for her shop, and even accepted commissions if requested. She never opened before noon, and she closed every Sunday so she had time for her commissions as MDC. Everything she sold in the shop had a blessing on it, and while she didn’t advertise that fact she did notice that most of her new customers came by on recommendations from friends who credited her with improving their lives. It was nice to be appreciated.

Marinette took the time to call her parents every week, and by her third month in Gotham she felt like they almost believed her when she said things were going well. Marinette also made an effort to keep in touch with her old friends a bit, but since they tended to be less enthusiastic about speaking to her she mostly only heard about their lives through social media. Alya made an effort to catch up when she could, but Marinette felt like that had more to do with wanting to hear about Gotham’s vigilantes than any interest in her old friend.

It was only fitting that as soon as Marinette had settled into her new life, things would suddenly change. She had known that something was happening in Gotham’s underworld; there was a new player taking over different gangs in the city, and generally causing chaos. She didn’t know much else about them, but when a well armed man in a tacky red helmet barged into her store one evening, well, she had a feeling she was about to learn more.

“Hello,” Marinette said, watching him warily as he walked up to her counter. He had two guns visible at his sides, but his body language seemed relaxed. “Can I help you?”

“Relax, Pixie. I’m just making the rounds, introducing myself to the neighborhood,” he said. His voice was a bit distorted, and Marinette assumed that was a feature of his helmet. “I’m Red Hood. You’re on my turf now, and if you wanna stay here, you’ll pay up.”

Marinette wasn’t sure how to react to this demand. Red Hood was completely different from the previous goons who had come to threaten her, and she was a bit confused about the change. She’d been under the impression that Siones was a pretty major player in Gotham, after all. “What happened to Black Mask?”

“Nothing yet, seeing as he’s a fucking coward, but he’s on my list of people to kill,” Red Hood said. “But his goons ain’t welcome around here anymore, so they won’t be coming by to collect payment again, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Ah,” Marinette said, then sighed. She supposed her only option was to roll with this and hope he was telling the truth. She opened her register, seeking out the cash she’d set aside for the expected visit from Black Mask’s goons. “How much do you want then?”

“Fifteen percent of your profits, each month,” Red Hood said, and nothing more, which meant she needed to do actual math, but he waited patiently while she did it. When she handed him the cash his posture relaxed just enough to let her know that he hadn’t been quite as at ease as she’d initially thought. “You are refreshingly cooperative, do you know that? What’s your name?”

“Marinette,” she answered, because while the idea that he might be taking any sort of interest in her made her plenty nervous, the thought of making him angry was worse. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Nettie,” Red Hood said, and Marinette almost thought he sounded amused, even with the distortion. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then he left, leaving Marinette behind with the nagging feeling that soon didn’t mean next month anymore. 

She was right, as it turned out, though she didn’t think that Red Hood’s next appearance in her life was actually planned. As part of her effort to heal Gotham, she’d started knitting and charming winter wear to hand out for free to those who needed it most. She’d originally been delivering her hats, scarves, and gloves to homeless shelters, but on her last trip someone had mentioned that the street kids who were trying to avoid CPS didn’t go to shelters, and that meant she needed to deliver the winter wear directly.

So she packed up a box of knitwear that she’d been working on whenever no one was in the shop (which was often), and she headed out to see if she could find Gotham’s street kids. It was more difficult than she had anticipated it would be; she had asked around at the shelters to see if anyone knew where she should look, and she trusted that she was in the right place, but she still couldn’t find any kids. She was pretty sure they were hiding from her.

She was just considering the idea of leaving her box of knitwear in an alleyway when she had the distinct feeling of eyes on her, and she put her charitable plans on hold to take stock of her surroundings. The street she was on was largely empty, with only a few occasional passersby that she could see. But...there, standing down the sidewalk a few car lengths behind her were three men who were doing a poor job of trying to seem inconspicuous. 

Marinette turned to face forward, keeping her pace calm and as natural as possible as she began reassessing her situation. She took the next turn available to her, just to check, and yes, those men were definitely following her. Lovely. She kept walking, trying her best to plot out the quickest route back into a less sketchy area of Gotham, but she needed to lose her pursuers first.

So Marinette sped up, and made several sharp, hopefully unpredictable turns in an attempt to shake the men off her tail. It was something she’d done time and again back in Paris, mostly for Ladybug reasons, and it was a tactic that had never failed her in the City of Lights. But Gotham was not Paris, and she was in a rather unfamiliar part of the city, and all she ended up doing was running straight into a dead end alleyway. 

_ Well fuck. _

She spun back to face her pursuers, who were grinning smugly at her as they approached. One stayed at the entrance to the alleyway, but the other two were approaching. None of them had guns that she could see, but the two approaching her had needles. So they wanted  _ her _ , not her money, and they wanted her alive and unharmed. Marinette set down her box and prepared to fight; it wasn’t ideal, but there were only three of them.

The first lunged at her with his needle, and Marinette twisted out of the way before grabbing his arm and flipping him over her shoulder. As she did there were two gunshots from the mouth of the alleyway, and Marinette panicked as she dove for cover behind a dumpster. How had she missed a gun? Had she really been so wrong in her assessment? She couldn’t see what was happening from her new vantage point, but she heard the man she flipped swear before a third shot rang out.

“The fuck are you doing in Park Row, Nettie?” Marinette peeked out from her hiding place to see the now familiar Red Hood, standing at the entrance to an alleyway that now contained three dead bodies.  _ Mon dieu. _ She’d kind of known that Red Hood was a killer, he’d essentially confessed to it in her shop, but knowing it and seeing it were two very different things, and she really hadn’t prepared herself for seeing dead bodies today.

“I-I,” Marinette started, but her voice was catching and she couldn’t get her gaze off of the bodies. She’d seen corpses before, akumas could be absolutely brutal in that regard, but she could bring those people back as Ladybug. These men were just dead forever though. And they’d been  _ bad _ men, she was fairly certain of that much, but they were also dead, and Marinette didn’t know how to feel about that. She thought she might be in shock.

“Hey, eyes on me,” Red Hood said, suddenly much closer and carefully tilting her face up to look at him. “Focus on breathing for a minute, yeah? You’re safe, everything’s fine.”

Marinette nodded absently, and focused on her breathing. She was safe. Was she safe? Red Hood was dangerous, and he’d seemed sort of angry when he’d first questioned her, but maybe that had been shock? His voice distorter made it near impossible to read his tone sometimes. But looking at him now, he didn’t look like he was going to attack her. He wasn’t relaxed, exactly, but it was more of a nervous tension, and she was pretty sure he was trying to seem nonthreatening.

“I, I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was,” Marinette said, finally finding her voice again. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Red Hood said, “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shoving all of her negative emotions into a corner of her mind to be dealt with later. “I don’t know why I’m freaking out. I grew up in Paris, I’ve seen so much worse than gunshot wounds.”

“The fuck happened in Paris?” Red Hood asked, tilting his head. Then he shook it. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing walking alone in this part of town?”

“I, er,” Marinette paused, trying to think of how best to phrase her errand. “I make knitwear to give away to people who need it. I’d been handing it out at shelters, and one of the women there mentioned that Gotham’s street kids avoid shelters. So I thought I’d try to find them directly, but that’s turning out to be harder than I anticipated.”

Red Hood crossed his arms and just looked at her, and Marinette tried not to squirm. She had no idea what he was thinking right now, but she felt like he was looking for something in her. She wasn’t sure what he’d found when he spoke again, but she hoped it wasn’t something bad. “They tend to keep away from unfamiliar adults, especially ones who look like they might call CPS in an attempt to help.”

“I don’t know much about American child services,” Marinette said, “But if there are children who would rather live on the streets than go to them for help, I have to assume they have good reason for it. Trying to force someone to accept a kind of help they don’t want never does any good though.”

Red Hood nodded at her, and she had a sudden feeling that she’d just passed some kind of test. “I can pass on what you made, they won’t hide from me.”

“Really? Thank you!” Marinette said, brightening in spite of the situation. She spun to pick up her box, carefully making sure to keep the bodies out of her line of sight. She would probably freak out more about this later, but this was not the place for that sort of breakdown. She’d gotten very, very good at replacing negative emotions with positive ones, so she focused on the good. Red Hood would make sure the kids got her knitwear, which meant they would have something soft and warm to get them through winter.

“Don’t mention it, Pixie. Ever,” he said, taking the box from her and guiding her out of the alleyway. “I’ll walk you back to your store.”

It was a very kind thing to do, and something she wouldn’t have expected from one of Gotham’s crime lords. And that was a sobering thought: Red Hood was a crime lord. He was extorting her, he’d just killed three people, she’d heard that he was involved in the drug trade. But he was also walking her home, so that no one would hurt her. He had offered to hand out knitwear to homeless children on her behalf with no prompting. He had calmed her down from her freak out. 

Her mind was still whirring by the time they made it back to her shop, and it wasn’t until he’d left her that she realized the most obvious solution to figuring out what sort of person Red Hood was: she was the Guardian, she could look at his soul and read his energy. It was still a new skill to her, and it took concentration, but it would show her what his contradictions meant. She resolved to check the next time she saw him, whenever that may end up being. 

It was a Sunday, and Marinette was in her workshop, hard at work on a dress that Clara had commissioned for her new music video, playing her favorite creative mood playlist and singing along in a way that Plagg had labeled cringeworthy, because he had no taste.

Marinette was very much focused on the embroidery on the dress sleeves, and so she missed the sound of a lock being picked. She missed the panicked hissing of the kwami as they all dashed off to find hiding spaces. She missed the creak of the backdoor of her shop swinging open. She did  _ not _ miss the thud of the door slamming shut, and she spun around with a  _ slight _ shriek when she saw a bloody, injured Red Hood leaning on the wall behind her.

“You sew, right?” he asked, as though this was a completely normal thing for him to be doing. She must have gaped at him a little too long, because he lets out a harsh sigh. “This is a time sensitive issue, Pixie.”

“Oh, merde. Hang on!” Marinette said, finally jumping out of her shock and dashing upstairs to grab her first aid kit. Patching up the local crime lord wasn’t something Marinette had ever expected to need to do, but she wasn’t about to let a man bleed to death in the backroom of her shop. The police investigation would be such a nightmare, and anyway she sorta owed him for saving her.

When she made it back down Red Hood had taken a seat at her stool, though he at least had the courtesy to move it away from her work table. She carefully moved her fabrics out of the way so she could set down her oversized first aid kit. She’d only bought one so large as a failed attempt to appease her parents, but apparently it was going to come in handy after all. 

She turned to Red Hood as he shrugged out of his leather jacket, and she took in the gash across his chest and stomach. It was long, and it would definitely need several stitches, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared it might be. It was the sort of thing she’d have been able to power through as Ladybug, at least for a little while. “Right, um, full disclosure, I have no idea how to do this.”

“Don’t you make clothes?” he said, tilting his head.

“Sewing fabric together and sewing up a person are two very different skills, Red Hood,” she answered, perhaps a bit too snappishly for talking to a man who still had guns in easy reach, but Red Hood just laughed, then winced as the movement pulled his cut.

“Alright, that’s fair,” he said, “To start, you’re gonna need to cut the suit away. Then you can start disinfecting the cut.”

“Right,” Marinette said, grabbing her scissors and attacking the spandex as she tried not to think too hard about the blood staining it. She stayed quiet as she worked, letting Red Hood guide her through the process of stitching and bandaging. As she worked, she took the opportunity to concentrate on feeling his energy out. It was...odd. She could feel his soul, a destruction soul that felt much like Plagg’s own energies, though she could also feel that he was a natural protector, but there was also so much anger and hurt clinging to him, a burning rage that scared her with its intensity. And there was something else, some dark and sickly energy that had latched on to him. She’d never seen anything like it.

She’d hoped that looking at his energy would give her answers, but she actually just had more questions. Maybe the kwami would know something? She refocused on his wound, and by the time she finished patching him up she felt rather proud; her hands had barely shook at all, and it wasn’t until she had finished up that Marinette became fully aware of the fact that she had a very attractive shirtless man in her workroom.

“So, um, is this going to be something that happens often?” Marinette asked, suddenly nervous again, though she now had to deal with the fact that it wasn’t just Red Hood’s guns that were causing her nerves. “N-not that I mind, or that you aren’t welcome, I just wasn’t expecting…”

Red Hood snorted at her. “Relax, Nettie. This is weird, you’re allowed to be nervous about it. I’ll try not to make this a habit, you were just the closest person I knew who can sew.”

“Oh. Well. That...you should maybe have higher standards for your medical care than that,” Marinette argued, because while Red Hood certainly still made her nervous she wasn’t  _ quite _ as afraid of him as she had been previously. She trusted her reading, even if she didn’t totally understand it.

Red Hood laughed. “I dunno, you did a pretty good job.”

Marinette made a distressed noise, and he laughed again. Marinette groaned. “If you’re going to use me as a doctor then you’re not allowed to get hurt again.”

“Why? You worried about me, Pixie?” he asked, and Marinette could almost hear the teasing notes in his voice. It made her feel bolder.

“Maybe I just don’t want you bleeding on my fabric,” Marinette grumbled, packing up her first aid kit while Red Hood laughed again. As she did, she came across the scraps of his suit and frowned. “I don’t think this is salvageable, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, I place the blame squarely on the asshat who tried to stab me,” Red Hood said, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. Red Hood whistled. “Anybody ever tell you how pretty your smile is?”

Marinette sputtered in French, and she could  _ feel _ the blush burning across her face. How could he just  _ say _ that? And how was she supposed to react coherently to that? Merde, she couldn’t even see his face to gauge his reaction to her suddenly forgetting English. This was so embarrassing, Marinette had thought that she’d grown out of this, but apparently all it took to send her back to her days in collѐge was a shirtless man complimenting her smile.  _ Merde. _

“Shirt!” Marinette squeaked. “I-I’ll g-get you a shirt!”

She did not  _ flee _ to the front of her shop, but it was a near thing. She took an extra minute just to breathe, then grabbed a shirt that she was fairly certain was his size. She’d gotten pretty good at eyeballing measurements over the years, but it was the sort of skill most people didn’t expect, so she figured she was safe to try and regain her composure before returning. If the shirt she picked was a little bit petty, well, he deserved it for flustering her, and more importantly it had a protective charm on it.

When she came back Red Hood was waiting, though he was just as unreadable as ever. She handed him the shirt while trying very hard not to look at him and hoping he didn’t notice. He took the shirt and scoffed at her design. “Really, Pixie?”

She looked down at the bat insignia and shrugged. “I thought it would be ironic? I can get you a different one if you’re morally opposed to him or something.”

“Ironic is right,” Red Hood muttered, but he  _ did _ put the shirt on. “Thanks for patching me up. Consider next month’s payment waived.”

Marinette almost protested, about to tell him she didn’t mind helping him and that he didn’t need to do that, until she remembered that she was only paying him because he was extorting her, and then promptly shut her mouth and nodded.

Red Hood left, and Marinette locked her door behind him before leaning on the wall with a sigh as she tried to put her thoughts in order. The whole visit had been strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. She felt a little more confident about interacting with a crime lord now, though that...that might actually  _ not _ have been a good thing, now that she thought about it.

“Oooo, I can  _ feel  _ all the chaos and destruction on him,” Plagg said, cutting through her moral quandary. “Tikki said you two clicked really well, but he’s a true destruction soul.”

Marinette hummed in thought, that information did make her feel a bit better about sorta befriending him. Destruction and Creation were a natural balance, it made sense that she and Red Hood would get along so well. It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, there were so many other factors that made up a person, but they had the potential to work very well together, if they were ever inclined to do so.

“Do you know what that dark energy on him was?” Marinette asked. The kwami hissed, an abrupt change from his previous amusement. Tikki floated over and rubbed his head soothingly, but she was frowning.

“ _ That _ was the lingering influence of a Lazarus Pit,” Tikki said, frowning deeply. “The Pits are old magic, almost as old as we are, created as an offshoot of absolute evil. They heal any wound, and can even bring back the dead, but they come at the price of a terrible corruption of whoever uses them. Be careful of him, okay Mari? I don’t think he’d ever  _ want  _ to hurt you, but those Pits…”

“They drive humans mad,” Plagg said, “And they amplify negative emotions, until you’re completely overpowered by them. You felt his rage, didn’t you? The hurt? Those emotions were strengthened by the Pit, and they’ll grow stronger every time he focuses on them. Eventually he won’t know anything else, and that’s liable to make him a danger to anyone and everyone he comes across.”

“Can we help him?” Marinette asked, frowning to herself. That all sounded awful, and no matter what had led Red Hood into a Lazarus Pit she didn’t think anyone deserved to have their mind corrupted that way. It reminded her of akumas, of how perfectly kind and good people were twisted into monsters who couldn’t see past the haze of their own hurt and anger.

“Maybe, but not without exposing our existence to him,” Tikki said, frowning. “The minor blessings you’ve been giving out might help slow the process, but if you wanted to truly cleanse him of the corruption you’ll have to tell him what you’re doing, there’d be no way to effectively cleanse him while hiding your actions.”

“You could push back a little bit on it, if he was ever dwelling on those emotions around you,” Plagg said. “It might keep him from losing control, but it wouldn’t really fix the problem.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, frowning to herself. She wanted to help, but revealing the kwami was a  _ massive _ act of trust, and she barely even knew Red Hood. She couldn’t endanger them by taking a risk on a stranger, no matter how much she wanted to help him. She sighed and returned to her work station. She didn’t have the time to dwell on this, not when she still had commissions to do.

After that night she didn’t see Red Hood again for a while. She didn’t know if he was just busy or if he was avoiding her, but he didn’t come back until his next collection day. It was probably for the best, as she’d gotten multiple commissions for the Wayne Gala and she was immensely busy as a result. She’d have to make sure to stagger her deadlines better in the future, having to get everything together all at once was absolutely horrible.

“You look awful, Nettie,” was the first thing Red Hood said to her. She might have glared, but by that point she was surviving almost entirely on coffee and determination, so she knew he wasn’t  _ wrong _ .

“I’ve been busy,” she said, counting out his money as she did. She’d already set aside the cash, but that had been prior to her brief nap this morning, so she wanted to double check her math.

“Too busy to sleep?” he asked, his voice just the slightest bit incredulous.

“When I get in a creative mood I tend to lose track of time,” Marinette said, shrugging. “That does  _ occasionally _ lead to me not sleeping.”

Tikki, who was pressed inside her hoodie, pinched her side. Marinette skipping sleep to keep sewing happened more than just  _ occasionally _ , and it was a point of contention between her and the kwami.

“Well you should get some rest. You look like a zombie,” Red Hood said. “If I get stabbed again I don’t think you’d be able to stitch me up so nicely as you did last time.”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t allowed to get stabbed again?” Marinette said, raising an eyebrow at him. Red Hood laughed.

“We did, and I’ve been doing a good job of it,” he said, and she had a feeling he was smiling under his helmet. “Can we also agree that you should get more sleep?”

Marinette huffed. How had she ever been afraid of this man? “You sound like my mother. You’ve just lost all of your intimidation points, but fine. I will try to sleep more.”

“Totally worth it,” he said, and she had the feeling he was grinning under his helmet. “What’s got you so busy anyway? I didn’t think the shop was getting any extra foot traffic.”

“It’s not, but I do commission work sometimes, and I might have taken a few too many at once,” Marinette said, unsure how much she should really be revealing. He hadn’t said anything about Clara’s dress when he was last here, but he might not have been able to tell much about it, it hadn’t exactly been finished. “Everything needs to be done at the same time, and it’s just been a lot to coordinate. But I’ll manage, and it’ll be worth it once I’m finished. And in the future I’ll know to stagger things a bit more.”

“You’ve always got a bright side, don’t you?” Red Hood said, leaning against her counter.

“I guess so. I sort of got in the habit of it because of Hawkmoth and then never got out of it,” Marinette said, shrugging. “I never got akumatized though, which I think is a solid accomplishment.”

“Right. Hawkmoth the magical Parisian terrorist who never got caught,” Red Hood said, tilting his head in thought. “I’ll be honest, I was kind of hoping he was a prank after I started researching him. But he really got away with that shit, then? How’d Ladybug take him down without catching him?”

“She  _ did  _ catch him,” Marinette said, her tone growing bitter as she remembered the aftermath of that fight. “She caught him and took his miraculous and then the police said that they weren’t going to charge him with anything because there was no proof that he was actually responsible. When she tried to go public with his identity they put a gag order out and declared that she was no longer permitted to operate in Paris. Any reporter that tried to publish his identity was sued for slander. He terrorized Paris for nearly a decade and he will face zero consequences for it.”

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Red Hood said, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach for his gun. “Do you know who he was?”

“Gabriel Agreste. His son was a friend of mine when we were younger, it was a pretty major blow to him when he found out,” Marinette said, glaring at her countertop. “Of course, I can’t prove it any more than Ladybug could, so it doesn’t really matter that I know.”

“I don’t get why the police wouldn’t listen to her, she was one of Paris’ oldest heroes, right?” Red Hood asked, and Marinette nodded. “When Bats arrests people they can go straight to jail on his word alone.”

“The police never really worked with Ladybug. At all,” Marinette said, glaring at all the times they had undermined her over the years. “Honestly it’s  _ not  _ surprising that they would side with a rich socialite over her, and if anyone had thought about it we probably would have seen it coming, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

“Well here’s hoping his bad karma comes back to bite him then,” Red Hood said, though there was something a bit dark in his voice that made Marinette wonder if she maybe should have played dumb. She wondered if she had just unintentionally put a target on Gabriel’s back. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to feel remorseful about the possibility.

“Here’s hoping,” Marinette echoed. 

“I’ve got other business to get to, but I hope you’ll be more well rested the next time I see you,” he said, and Marinette rolled her eyes at him. He laughed as he turned to walk away. “I’ll see you later, Pixie.”

“See you later, Red,” she said, smiling a bit as she watched him go.

She kept an eye on the news for the next two weeks, just in case Gabriel turned up dead in a ditch or something, but nothing happened. She supposed being in Paris would make it less likely for Red Hood to go after him though.  _ Probably for the best _ .

She focused on her commissions and another week flew by, and after that she knew it was only a matter of time before Red Hood would be dropping by again. With her deadline fast approaching she’d taken to staying in workshop sewing unless someone was in the store, so that’s where she was when the bell jingled just a few minutes before she would have started closing. Marinette finished her stitch and went out front to meet her guest, only to stop dead at the sight of who was waiting for her.

“Adrien?”

“Mari! Surprise,” he said, grinning as he rushed forward to hug her. Marinette was too surprised to react. “I’ve missed you. Paris really isn’t the same without you there.”

“What are you doing in Gotham, Adrien?” Marinette asked as he pulled away. He pouted at her.

“And here I thought you’d be more excited to see me,” he said, but then he frowned. “I’m here on business for Father. I thought dropping by to see you might actually make the trip worth it.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you did business for your father,” Marinette said, frowning a bit. “Is he in Gotham?”

“No, he’s still at home,” Adrien said, rolling his eyes. “And unfortunately I’m stuck working for Father until my contract ends.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marinette said, and she genuinely was. Adrien had been driving her a bit made recently, but she knew he had a rough go of it because of Gabriel. “But I hope you enjoy your stay. Gotham’s actually a really cool city.”

Adrien scoffed. “You don’t have to pretend to like it here, Mari, I have eyes. I can see how depressing this place is.”

“It’s a little rough around the edges, and the architecture is a bit  _ dramatic _ ,” Marinette admitted, “But I really do like the city. It’s got character, and the people are interesting. Oh, and the Wayne Botanical Gardens are absolutely gorgeous, if you have time to visit you should really check them out. Just be careful not to step on any plants or anything.”

“Why? Because if I do I’ll get attacked by Poison Ivy, right?” Adrien said, frowning at her with disapproval. “This is the most dangerous city in the world, Mari, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here.”

“Not in the world,” Marinette protested, “Just in America.”

Adrien gave her a flat look. “That’s not helping your case.”

“Good thing I don’t need one,” Marinette said, crossing her arms and frowning at him. “I’m a grown woman, Adrien, I can make my own choices. I have chosen to live in Gotham, and I don’t need to justify my choices to you.”

“Marinette, you’re making everyone worry,” Adrien said, making his disappointment plain. “I’m not sure what inspired you to do this, but you’re hurting the people who care about you. I don’t want to believe that it’s a cry for attention, but honestly that’s the best explanation I’ve heard and if you’re not going to offer a better one then how am I supposed to justify thinking better of you?”

“You don’t need to justify anything, actually. And I really couldn’t care less what Lila says about me, she’s no longer a part of my life,” Marinette said, knowing she hit her mark when Adrien flinched. “And if our old friends think poorly of me for living my own life then they don’t need to be a part of my life either.”

“You don’t mean that,” Adrien said, reaching out to grab hold of her wrists. “Mari, they’re just worried about you.  _ I’m _ worried about you. And we miss our Everyday Ladybug. Please come back? I can help you buy a new boutique back in Paris.”

“No,” Marinette said, trying to pull her arms back. Adrien held tight though. “Let go.”

“Why are you being so difficult about this?” Adrien asked, frowning at her. “There’s nothing here for you! You’re never going to make it big in fashion like you wanted in a boutique like this, and you’re smart enough to know that. You’re throwing your dreams away, and for what?”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Marinette said, glaring at him. “Now let go.”

“Not until you start seeing reason,” Adrien said, glaring right back at her as his grip tightened. “Is it a guy? Is that why you moved out here?”

“No, Adrien—”

“Then I don’t understand what you think there is to find here. What could possibly justify leaving Paris? Leaving your friends and your family?” Adrien said, growing more upset with every word he spoke. His grip on her arms was like a vice, and getting tighter with every minute. “I know Lila was making things difficult in school but you’re adults now, it shouldn’t be that hard to just stay away from each other! You could have stayed and it would have been fine. We would have been fine!”

“Adrien,” Marinette started, but he cut her off again.

“Coming here was a mistake, Marinette, can’t you see that? You’re just endangering yourself and hurting the people you care about!” Adrien said, and there was so much hurt on his face that she didn’t think he was even really seeing her. His grip was still getting stronger though, and Marinette hissed at the force of it. “We all depend on you and you just left us, how could you do that? After everything we’ve been through, and you’re just throwing that all away like it never meant anything!”

“Adrien you’re hurting me!” She shouted, snapping him back into the moment. He let go of her like he’d been burned, and Marinette rubbed the feeling back into her wrists as she took a few steps back. She was going to have bruises, she just knew it.

“Mari, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Adrien said, looking horrified. Marinette knew he hadn’t meant to. She also knew that this wasn’t about her, not Marinette her, anyway. This was about Ladybug. 

“I think you should leave, Adrien,” Marinette said, keeping her voice hard. He hesitated, looking like he might protest, and Marinette glared at him. “I came to Gotham because I wanted to live here. You might not like it here, but I do, and I’m not moving back to Paris. Go back to your hotel. Go back to Paris. Go wherever you want to, Adrien, but don’t come back here again.”

That seemed to get through to him, because Adrien finally turned around and left. Marinette locked the door behind him. She hoped that one day he’d get over the end of their partnership, but she couldn’t regret ending it. Their relationship had been twisted and toxic, and he’d never seen her as a real person, only as an ideal that he put on a pedestal. 

She was quiet as she closed up the shop quickly, whatever good mood she’d had was long gone. When she walked back into her work room Tikki nuzzled into her cheek, and the rest of the kwami swarmed her as they followed suit. Marinette found herself smiling despite herself. She could always count on the kwami to be there for her. “Thanks guys.”

“Are you alright, Guardian?” Wayzz asked, looking sadly at her.

“I’m alright,” Marinette said. “Or I will be soon.”

“Is there any way we can help?” Nooroo asked, looking up at her with sad eyes.

“Just having you guys with me helps,” Marinette said, smiling kindly as him. “Though I think tonight is a night for stress baking, if you wanted to pick out a treat for me to make.”

Nooroo smiled back at her, and the kwami all buzzed in excitement as they all went upstairs. Marinette had to move a bit slower than usual because of the bruises forming across her forearms, but it wasn’t too much of a problem yet. She hoped it wouldn’t become one, she really didn’t want to have to explain what had happened to anyone else. Though she could only think of one person who might ask.

_ Merde. He can never know. _

She didn’t know what Red Hood would do if he found out about her getting hurt, but between the Lazarus Pit and the natural protectiveness he had she figured it probably wouldn’t be good. Hopefully she healed before he turned up to collect his monthly fee and it wouldn’t be a problem. She could be that lucky for once, couldn’t she?

(She maybe should have known better than to think so.)

She wore long sleeves for the next few days, just in case, and it was good that she did because of course Red Hood showed up before the bruising had really healed. They were mostly an ugly yellow now, but they were sore as hell and hurt anytime she moved. She really hoped he wouldn’t notice, and she tried to move carefully so that he wouldn’t, but of course he did.

“What’s wrong with your arms?” he asked as she was pulling out his money, and Marinette froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh, what?”  _ Very convincing, Marinette. _

Red Hood frowned and took hold of her hand, pulling her arm toward him with a gentleness she never would have expected from the man. He carefully rolled her sleeve up, then gasped at the sight of the half healed bruising. “The hell happened?”

She couldn’t read his tone because of that damn voice distorter, and she hated that she didn’t know what he was thinking. “Nothing, there was an accident.”

“Do you really think I’m stupid enough not to notice the shape of fingers?” Red Hood asked. 

“No, I was hoping it had healed enough not to be obvious,” Marinette said, pulling her arm back. Red Hood released her without a fight.

“It had, but thanks for confirming,” Red Hood said, and Marinette wanted to kick herself. “Now who the fuck is responsible for this?”

“Does it matter? It wasn’t a move against you or anything,” Marinette said, vainly hoping that that might end the conversation. It didn’t.

“Dammit Pixie, I know I’m extorting you, but my protection is still legit! If somebody’s giving you shit you gotta tell me,” Red Hood said, slamming his fist down on her countertop. Mere months ago the sight would have frightened her, but now? Now she knew the difference between being dangerous and being dangerous to  _ her _ . And Hood had never quite gotten her to believe that he was the second.

“It’s fine, Red Hood. We just had a personal disagreement, it’s not a big deal,” Marinette said, hoping to calm him down, but if anything the tension in his shoulders only got worse.

“Bullshit! Some fucker’s hurting you, that is a  _ very  _ big deal to me,” Red Hood said, and while Marinette couldn’t  _ see  _ his glare she could certainly feel it. She had known that he wouldn’t be happy if he found out what Adrien had done, but she hadn’t counted on him being  _ this _ upset about it. “Just tell me who it was and I’ll take care of it.”

“It has already been taken care of, Red Hood,” Marinette said, trying to sound firm. “The person responsible will be leaving Gotham shortly, it won’t happen again.”

“Dammit Marinette, why are you fucking protecting this dick?” Red Hood said, and Marinette paused at the use of her actual name. She took in the tension in his stance, and how clearly on edge he was. She’d never seen him like this before, and as she focused on him and his energy she could feel his anger swirling, and the dark, corruptive energy that was feeding it. 

“It’s a little complicated, but I’ll try to explain it. I promise I’m not in danger from him, and you know I could have taken him down if I was,” Marinette said, keeping her voice even and calm, and reaching out with her own energy to push back against the corruption of the Lazarus Pit. It worked, at least a bit, though Red Hood was still angry. “So, we’re not really friends anymore, but he used to be one of my best friends. We went to school together, and he spent years watching my back during akuma attacks. He always protected me back then, and he’s never quite realized that I’ve grown up and can protect myself now.”

“How does this factor into him hurting you?” Red Hood snapped. 

“I’m getting there,” Marinette said, smiling a bit ruefully. “When I decided to move to Gotham, nobody thought it was a good idea. My old friend in particular was very against it, and he tried everything he could think of to get me to change my mind. Obviously that didn’t work, and he’s been very upset about that. We haven’t spoken much since I moved, but when he had to come here for a business trip he tracked me down to try and convince me to come back to Paris.”

“And when you said no he took it poorly, right?” Red Hood said, and she felt his anger spiking again. “I’m not seeing any reason not to let me deal with him.”

“Well, for one thing, I’m pretty sure sending a crime lord after him will only prove the point that Gotham is super dangerous,” Marinette said, smiling just enough to make it clear she was teasing. Red Hood huffed. “But for another, he was my best friend once. And things aren’t great between us now, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him hurt.”

“But  _ he  _ hurt  _ you _ ,” Red Hood said, his frustration coming in clear enough that she didn’t even need to be able to read his energy to feel it. “How can you just let him get away with that? How can you expect me to?”

“I don’t want to, but…” Marinette dropped her gaze, trying to think of how to explain it in a way he’d understand. “I know that the police wouldn’t do anything about it. Even if this wasn’t Gotham I don’t have enough evidence to prove that he did it, and since this  _ is _ Gotham I’m not sure it would matter if I did. And I know you want to go after him, but I can’t in good conscience put a target on his back. That wouldn’t be justice, it would be revenge, and that wouldn’t make me feel better. I’m pretty sure it would just make me feel worse.

“I need to do the best thing for me, Red Hood. And out of my current options, the best thing is to let it go and move forward with my life,” Marinette said, looking up so he could see the determination in her eyes. “He doesn’t get to be in my life anymore, and that just has to be enough. So can you trust me? Trust that I know the best thing to do for me, and that if something changes and I need help I’ll tell you? Please?”

For a moment he just stood there, watching her as his emotions warred. For a moment she worried he might say no, but then he slumped against the counter and sighed. “Fine. But if he hurts you again I get to shoot him.”

Marinette decided to ignore that, instead focusing on handing over his money. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Figured it’s only fair turn-about, since you seem to trust me for some inconceivable reason,” Red Hood said.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s not like you’re consistently helpful and kind or anything.”

“I’m extorting you. How is that kind?” he asked.

“Technically it’s not, I’ll give you that, but overall you’re much more pleasant to deal with that Black Mask’s goons were,” Marinette said. “And I know you said not to mention it, but there’s also the fact that you passed out knitwear for me.  _ And  _ you nag worse than my mother.”

“I’m not going to live that down, am I?” he asked, though Marinette noticed he had finally let the tension slip from his stance. 

“Nope! But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep it on the down low. I know you’ve got a reputation to maintain,” Marinette said, taking on a tone of faux seriousness. 

“Hey I earned that reputation, Pixie,” Red Hood said. “Don’t forget that.”

“I never have,” Marinette said, her voice as sincere as she could make it. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person.”

“Some people might argue that it does,” Red Hood said.

“Well those people would be wrong,” Marinette said matter of factly. “I’m very good at reading people, Red. I know what I’m talking about. You’re a protector at heart, and no matter what you do that’s not going to change.”

“You don’t know my story, Nettie,” he said, and Marinette frowned as she noticed the tension coming back, though now it read as more of a nervous energy than an angry one.

“That’s true,” Marinette admitted, taking a moment to sort out her phrasing. How could she make him see what she saw? “But I know  _ you _ . I know you talked me down from a panic before I even realized I was falling into one, and I know you’ve done more to get drugs out of schools in three months than anti-drug programs managed in three decades, and I know that you’re dangerous, but you can be gentle too, when you want to be. I know that I’m safe if you’re with me.”

“Well you’re a terrible judge of character,” Red Hood said, pushing off the counter and walking to the door.

“I’m really not,” Marinette called after him. For a moment he paused, but only for a moment. Marinette sighed as the door shut behind him, wondering if she’d pushed too far too fast. She really hoped not.

Three days later, Red Hood was on the news. He was confronting the Joker on a bridge, because the mad man had driven a truck full of people onto it and was threatening to light them on fire. The news crew was too far away for her to hear what was being said, but she could see the action once the fighting started. Batman turned up, and she watched on in horror when Joker and Red Hood went falling into the water below. 

There was no footage of them after that, and Marinette started stress baking while she waited on further news. Red Hood had sent them into the water on purpose, which she hoped meant that he would be fine. If he was hiding from the Bat then it would make sense that he would avoid the news crew as well.

She had made brownies, two dozen cookies, and was halfway through making macarons when the report of an explosion came on, followed by footage of police pulling the Joker from the rubble of an apartment complex. Supposedly Batman had been there earlier, but there was no news about Red Hood.

She decided she would make muffins next. Blueberry ones, because they were Duusu’s favorite. 

Red Hood didn’t drop in randomly that month, and he missed his next collection date. The news said that the Red Hood had vanished and left a power vacuum behind in his wake. Marinette turned it off, and then made strawberry pie for Orikko. Two months after the bridge incident, two of Black Mask’s thugs turned up in her shop to demand payment. After they left Marinette closed the store for the day and started making chocolate chip cookies. They were too salty, she knew, but none of the kwamis complained about it.

Marinette tried to keep as busy as possible. Her commission business was growing, and she dropped her boutique’s hours to keep up. She wasn’t sleeping enough, she knew, but she really just didn’t have the time. She was busy. Her Maman told her she needed to take better care of herself during their last video call, and Marinette had spent the next several hours making pain au chocolat. She tried to keep calls to her parents audio only after that.

The second time Black Mask’s goons came for their monthly payment Marinette managed to finish the day, but only because she knew she was out of flour and she didn’t have it in her to go out and get more. She tried to work on an embroidery project instead, but she couldn’t seem to get the stitches straight. Her hands kept shaking, and her vision was blurry, and when Tikki suggested that Marinette just needed sleep she agreed, because any other explanation was unacceptable.

Most of Marinette’s customers blurred together. Even the regulars didn’t stick out in her mind much. She thought that a few of them had asked if she was okay, or maybe it was the same old woman every time, but most Gothamites seemed to understand not to question her. To leave her to her life, however she might be living it, and let that be that. The people of Gotham were an apathetic bunch, and Marinette was starting to understand why they might choose to live that way. 

Which was why the man who walked in, took one look at her and said, “You look like shit,” immediately stood out to her. 

He was tall and broad, with dark hair and very pretty blue eyes. She’d never seen him before in her life, didn’t know his voice at all, but he was still familiar to her. “Excuse me?”

“You look like shit,” he said, walking up to stand in front of her counter. “When did you last sleep?”

“I don’t know who you think you are, or where you get off—”

“I’m a concerned citizen,” he said. “You look like someone who needs a little concern.”

Marinette froze, taking him in again but looking deeper, focusing not on his face but on his stance, his body language, his soul. 

“Wait, shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, even as jumped over the counter to tackle him in a hug. 

“Where the  _ fuck _ have you been?” She asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to recognize me that fast,” he said, though he returned the hug. “Sorry I’ve been gone. I was figuring shit out, dealing with family drama.”

“I thought you were dead,” she said. It was the first time she’d admitted it since the bridge incident. 

“Shit. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he said, but Marinette heard what he didn’t say,  _ I didn’t think you would. _

“I’m adding disappearing for months onto the list of things you’re not allowed to do,” Marinette said. “Or at least tell me you’re going beforehand.”

“Okay,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m not planning to leave again anytime soon, but okay. I’ll keep you in the loop from now on.”

“You better,” she said, finally pulling back to look him in the eyes again. They had so much that needed to be talked about, so many things they would need to tell each other. But there was time for all of that later. He was here, and he was staying, and that was what mattered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, looking a bit awed by her. She liked being able to see his face. He was like an open book. She supposed that was probably why he wore a full helmet.

“You’re not in costume,” she said. A statement and a question, if he was willing to answer it.

“I’m retired. At least for now,” he said. 

“And what should I call you then?” she asked.

“Jason,” he answered. “Jason Todd.”


End file.
